


Oct 15: Masks and Costumes

by MadhouseVagabond



Series: Scarefest Challenges 2017 [15]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, FYRTFF Scarefest Challenge 2017, GTA Universe AU, Gang Violence, Los Santos, Violence, scarefest challenge, sorta origin story I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadhouseVagabond/pseuds/MadhouseVagabond
Summary: In the violent, crime-filled city of Los Santos you're either a predator or prey. Ryan Haywood just wants to keep his head down and avoid trouble.





	Oct 15: Masks and Costumes

Los Santos, the City of Sin and most crime filled city in America. Two kinds of people lived in Los Santos, predators and prey. You either became one of the many criminals or corrupted police that took advantage of innocence, or you were one of the unlucky souls who suffered; there was no middle ground, no grey area.

Ryan Haywood liked to think that nothing would ever happen to him, afterall, that was something that happened to other people. He kept his head low and out of business that wasn't his. He avoided large banks and popular target spots of the Los Santos gangs, he dressed plainly so as not to draw attention to himself. So far he'd managed to keep a low profile and stay under the radar of any misfortune, almost to the point where he was growing cocky.

When some friends of his invited him to a Halloween party he happily accepted, thinking it'd be nice to be around people he actually liked for once, instead of being cooped up in the IT office and answering phone calls from pissed off customers who had nothing better to do than complain to him and yell at him when he tried to help. His patience was beginning to wear thin at his job, his dislike for other people starting to worry him.

When the night of the party came, Ryan smiled as he admired himself in the mirror, glad his costume had come together so perfectly. Making his way to the correct address he frowned slightly when he noticed the building was in one of the nicer areas of town, and dead center in gang territory. Swallowing his nervousness and being filled with determination to socialize, Ryan walked inside the building and greeted his friends who grew pale at the sight of him.

"What? I'm not THAT scary am I?" he asked nervously. His buddy Chris chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

"Yeah Haywood, you kinda are. What the hell are you even supposed to be?" he asked. Ryan sighed in disappointment.

"I'm supposed to be Ghost Rider," he mumbled sadly. The others raised their eyebrows.

"Uh, yeah I can see it now!" Jill said trying to sound enlightened and failing horribly.

"You guys suck," Ryan said, a small tinge of humor in his voice.

"Well for fucks sake Ryan, since when does Ghost Rider have a black skull? Or have a black jacket with blue and white on it?" Harris asked. Ryan had to give it to them, they weren't wrong. The jacket he'd had in his closet for a long time, not needing it after his bike had been stolen almost a year ago, and the black skull mask he'd bought just today when it caught his eye at a mask shop on the pier.

"I mean, it wouldn't be white after being on fire for so long," he said weakly and shrugged, the others laughing and pulling him into the party with them.

Ryan was actually having a good time, surprised that his slowly growing hatred for his fellow humans didn't flare up. At least, not until people started getting drunk. Ryan had never had a taste for alcohol, the liquid always having a bad after taste to him, and he'd always wanted to keep him mind clear and sharp. So when he found himself on the couch with two drunk dudes on one side talking loudly to each other and three women on the other giggling obnoxiously, he felt the disgust for humanity returning. It also didn't help that one of the guys started flirting with him at the same time two of the women did.

"Hey handsome, what do you say we blow this joint and head to my place?" the guy asked to which Ryan rolled his eyes.

"I bet under that scary mask you've got just the cutest face," one of the ladies slurred, the other beginning to rub his hand.

This continued for several minutes before Ryan was able to pry himself away from their searching hands and looks and make his way to the kitchen which was deserted and quiet. He leaned against the counter and took several breaths to calm himself and not let his temper get the best of him. He didn't want to say or do anything to these people that would be rude, he understood that they weren't fully in control of themselves and he genuinely liked some of them; he just needed to calm down. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed.

"Well at least it can't get any worse," he said. That's when the gunshots rang throughout the building, causing his blood to freeze, his eyes to snap open and widen, and his whole body to tense up. Screams filled the air along with shouts and more gunfire.

"Oh fuck," he breathed. This was what he'd always feared, and now it was becoming a reality. He quickly looked around for a weapon or something to defend himself with should he be attacked. He found a drawer full of knives and grabbed several of various lengths and blades. Quickly hiding behind the door he steadied his breathing and prepared himself.

_Okay Haywood, you can do this. You will get out of this but you've got to be ready._ he thought to himself as he heard footsteps approach and he swallowed. The door opened and he saw the barrel of a gun emerge from behind it, a second later a figure dressed in black and wearing a bandana around his face. Something in Ryan clicked then, something dark that seemed to guide his actions and take over as if on instinct, his vision going red. Without hesitating Ryan leapt into action, grabbing the barrel of the gun with one hand and pushing it away from the two while plunging a knife as forcefully as he could into the man's chest where the heart was.

The man fell, dead. Ryan slumped against the wall breathing fast, holding the gun in one hand, staring at the blood covering his gloved hands. He was trembling, terrified but also strangely fascinated with the blood, both on his hand and soaking the floor. He shook his head and dragged the body to the side, slowly peeking out of the door. Several of the gang members had a few of the partygoers kneeling on the floor with their weapons pointed at them. Quickly counting how many there were Ryan ducked back into the kitchen and counted his knives.

Five to their seven. Fuck.

He looked at the gun, not really knowing how to use it as it was far different from the BB guns he used to use as a kid. He was about to formulate some sort of plan when he heard a scream and then gunfire, his heart stopping as he slowly peeked out the door again. All the hostages were dead, the gang laughing as they stood over the bodies. Taking a deep breath Ryan went against everything he believed in and burst through the door.

Throwing one knife he was pleased when it found its mark in his targets chest, the man grunting and falling to the floor. Two more knives thrown and two more of the gang died before the shock wore off and they began to move. By that time though, Ryan had already dove to the side, rolling behind cover, avoiding the first few shots before raising to a knee and firing himself, hitting the remaining four. His shots were sloppy sure, but it worked, three of the men dying and the fourth falling to the ground screaming in pain as his legs were riddled with bullets.

Ryan ceased firing and stood, finding himself smiling at the work he'd done, as he slowly stalked toward the last surviving gang member. He could see the bandana around the man's face more clearly than before, a serpent's fangs pattern adorning the fabric, a clear indicator that these assholes were from the Vipers, a newer gang that had recently risen up in the city. The wounded man scrambled backwards from the masked figure approaching him, raising his gun and aiming it shakily at the tall man. Ryan heard himself laughing, the deep sound reverberating off the walls and smiled when he saw the man pale.

"You'd better make that shot fucking count," he said. The man pulled the trigger, a deafening click filling the air and he froze his retreat, a look of horror crossing his face.

Ryan smiled again and leaned down, taking one of his remaining knives and plunging it into the man's hand so forcefully it pinned it to the floor. The man screamed in pain much to Ryan's delight. He leaned in closer, his mask only a few inches from the man's face.

"My turn," he said and in one swift motion swung his arm up and out, the blade of his last knife slicing perfectly across the man's throats and severing his jugular.

The man's eyes grew wide as he reached up to his throat, a sputtering gurgling noise escaping him as he died. As he sank to the floor Ryan pulled his mask up over his head and looked down at the man. A cough from the dying man threw blood into Ryan's face but he barely reacted, just closing his eyes and smiling. Opening his eyes again he saw the man's life leave his eyes. He stood and walked out of the building, before taking off running down the street and ducking into an alley a few blocks away. That's when his vision cleared and a sick feeling began to form in his stomach. He looked down at the knife in his hand and dropped it like it was on fire, going pale at the sight of the blood.

He pulled his mask off as he slid to the ground with tears in his eyes, gazing at the black mask. He let the tears fall for a minute, his sobs shaking his shoulders as what he'd done fully dawned on him. After a moment his shoulders shook, but not from crying, his sobs turning into maniacal laughter, deep and evil, a voice in his head chanting one word over and over again as he gazed at the mask.

_Vagabond. Vagabond. Vagabond!_


End file.
